Despicable Origins
by DisneyExperiment1028
Summary: The legend of an up-and-coming teenage supervillain named Gru...before the girls, before Lucy, before everything. A Smallville-esqe take on Gru's struggle to balance his evil ambitions and a suburban adolescence, from high school to his first steady girlfriend. Inspired by artwork on Tumblr. Rated T for possible future chapters. I love Grucy but since this is a prequel, GruxOC
1. Chapter 1

**Inspired by the lovely drawings of young Gru by the talented AnnaK1332 on Tumblr. Please review, feedback is most welcome!**

* * *

**Paris, France. 1978.**

_Reemember to breathe. Don't rush. Take your time. You have all de time in de wurld. She's just hanging there, waiting for you._

Gru bit his lip. The glass had made a slight hiss, as his knife began to cut a semi-circle into the translucent barrier. There was something creepy about the Louvre at night. Gru didn't mind the dark so much as the quiet...the slightest sound from his tiny knife was already setting him on edge. It echoed throughout the vast hallways of the museum, and Gru could only hope that the guards were far enough away on their rounds…

_Stop worrying. It'll be fine. Just focus._

To regain his nerve, Gru decided to steal another glance at his potential prize. But, instead of the Mona Lisa's small smile and stare, icy blue eyes gazed back at him. The rest of his face was covered in black, lightweight fabric that concealed him from head to toe. For his biggest heist yet, Gru would leave no room for mistakes…and no chance of getting caught.

With a final squeak, the glass gave in, and Gru gently moved it aside, laying it on the dark, tile floor as the Mona Lisa finally offered her stoic smile his way. She was in his reach at last. Soundlessly, he reached out to touch the frame with his bare fingertips. He shuddered as the chilly, metallic material brushed his skin. The cold sensation made his heart race, and he reminded himself to hurry. He was so close.

Without wasting another second, Gru hastily removed the painting from its position on the wall and securely placed it inside the black bag that was slung over his shoulder. Out of the same bag, he then produced his pride and joy: an exact replica of the Mona Lisa, which he quickly situated onto the wall. With his heart pounding, he slid the circular cut-out of the glass back into place and melded it into one with the wall, courtesy of a special pen from Dr. Nefario.

The hollow click of distant footsteps stopped the blood in his veins. Frozen in place, Gru held his breath and tried to stay calm.

_Relax. No one knows you're here. Stay steell and wait._

About a minute passed, and the footsteps finally faded into the faraway hallways of the Louvre. Gru was amazed: a whole five minutes had gone by, yet not _one guard_ passed by the museum's most prized painting. Who'd ever think the job would be so easy?

In a series of short, catlike movements, Gru stepped away from the imposter-Mona Lisa and leaped up the colossal wall of the museum, until he found himself perched by one of the windows. A second later, he was gone.

_I did eet._

* * *

Gru could feel himself smiling…it was something he rarely did. And, soon, the smiling broke into laughter. As he sped through the narrow streets of Paris on his motorcycle, with _the_ Mona Lisa slung over casually over his back, he laughed like a maniac. What _wasn't_ funny about a seventeen year-old _singlehandedly_ stealing the world's most beloved piece of art history…in the matter of five minutes?

He was racing away from the city of lights - the sights, sounds, and smells of French urban life faded away as his motorbike gained speed. With the flick a switch, a fiery jet was activated and metallic wings sprouted from the sides of the bike, rocketing him from the ground. Now airborne, Gru began his surprisingly quick journey home. Thanks to some guidance from Nefario, his newest motorbike - _flying_ motorbike - could take him from Paris to Pasadena in a few short hours.

* * *

Shedding his helmet and his mask, while running a hand through his jet-black hair, he trudged up the stairs to his room, the satisfied smirk still stuck on his face. No Mrs. Gru in this house to nag him – Gru had moved out of his mother's place months ago, finally fed up with it all. Dr. Nefario, an old friend of his father's, was tolerable enough – he gave him his own room, his privacy, his space. And the freedom to go where he pleased.

Gru entered his immaculate bedroom, which was too tidy to belong to your average teenage boy. It wasn't a large room…just a twin bed, some maps on the walls, and book cases filled to the _brim_ with almanacs, dictionaries, and textbooks. And, of course, there was a telescope for stargazing parked by his window. Exhausted but still high from the heist, he flopped facedown on the bed, chuckling into the covers. He still couldn't believe what he just did. Rolling onto his back, he reached into the black bag that was still tightly gripped in his right hand. He yanked the bag away to reveal the painting, and he stared into the modest lady's dark eyes.

He had been committing crimes since he was fourteen…shoplifting, pick-pocketing, even mugging a guy or two on a late Saturday night…but he always wanted more. His father had been more: a supervillain, who apparently always dreamed of stealing the Mona Lisa in a single, flawless heist. In just one try, this teenage boy had already accomplished the lifetime goal of one of the world's most ambitious villains. If only he was around to see it.

Nefario had warned Gru that he was too young and inexperienced to take on such a task. Gru smirked…_stupid, old man_. It was Nefario's mistake to help him build a jet/motorcycle hybrid…but this all proved one significant point. As long as he had the money and the technology he needed, Gru knew he was unstoppable. As long as he kept Nefario around, Gru knew he could accomplish even more wonders. He just needed to stay on his good side, at least for a little while longer. At least until he had the lab. At least until he was the boss.

There was a soft knock at the door. Gru laughed. _Right on cue…_

Nefario stepped in the room, hands behind his back and a firm frown on his wrinkled, old face.

"You were gone awhile."

Gru sat up, smirking, "Deed I break curfew again?"

"Where were you, Gru."

The pale, black-haired teenager stood on his bed and dangled the painting, smiling mischievously at his mentor like a spoiled child. Nefario groaned and shook his head.

"Idiot!"

Gru frowned, red seeping into his cheeks. "Excuse me?"

Nefario stepped forward and snatched the painting out of Gru's hands, leaving the boy stunned and angry. "Do you know how stupid you are?!" he snarled in his British accent, suddenly raising his voice.

"What? I got away with eet. No one saw me!" Gru snapped back.

"What are you going to do with this?" Nefario huffed, holding up the Mona Lisa.

"Well, I was theenking of giving eet back, just to be nice," Gru retorted, with a sarcastic roll of his eyes.

"Did you leave a ransom note? Anything to let them know it was you?" the doctor pressed.

"Of course not. I'm no eediot."

"That's the point of being a supervillain, Gru! Your father wanted to go down in _history_ as the man who stole the Mona Lisa! Now what? What's your next move, hmm? Keep it forever and never get caught?"

Gru blinked, registering the old man's words. _Wasn't that the point? Not getting caught?_

"I thought no one was supposed to know…"

"You're a stupid boy who has _much_ to learn about this way of life! I promised your father when you were ready…"

"I _am_ ready! Look what I just deed!" the teenager protested, jumping off the bed and moving to stand nose-to-nose with the doctor. Gru narrowed his eyes as he stared into the older man's opaque, protective goggles. Neither man moved a muscle.

"Your job for now is to finish school," Nefario stated, finally turning around to exit the room, "I'm not giving another inch until then."

"I'll be eighteen soon," Gru continued, not quite finished. He stormed after the doctor, following him into the hallway, "I can take whatever I want. Eet's my father's lab!"

"Actually, it's _my_ lab." Nefario grunted, turning around to face the teenager once more, "Your father said your inheritance goes into effect when you graduate. Speaking of which…" The doctor nodded towards a nearby window, where the pale morning light was just beginning to creep in, "Your first class starts in…what, two hours?"

Gru rolled his eyes. "Nefario, I just spent the weeekend in Paris. I theenk that's a fair substitution for AP French."

Nefario took a step forward, firmly placing a gloved hand on the boy's shoulder. "You know, you may be an idiot, Gru…but you're a smart lad."

"Dat makes no sense," the dark-haired boy deadpanned.

"I mean you get the highest marks of anyone in that high school of yours. Enjoy being young for a moment. Your father's way of life – _my_ way of life – that can all wait, at least for another year."

Gru stared at the older man, blinking his blue eyes in frustration. Nefario smirked and trudged away with the Mona Lisa in hand, leaving the younger man steaming.

Gru hated George Washington Prep. He hated everything about it – from his classmates, to his teachers, to the maroon and gray uniform he had to wear every single day. What was the point of finishing school when everything he wanted was just below the floorboards of his home?

He sighed. The teenager stormed back into his room and collapsed on the bed once more, peering bitterly at the rosy sunlight filling the bedroom. It was only the beginning of his senior year. Maybe if he closed his eyes and pretended high school was a dream, it would all end that much faster…


	2. Chapter 2

Ten hours ago he was in the most beautiful city in the world…now he was stuck outside the headmaster's office in some Californian private high school. Gru sat fuming in one of the velvety seats just beside Headmaster Garret's secretary, who would nervously steal a glance at him every now and then. Gru didn't mind that most people at George Washington Prep were a little afraid of him. In fact, he _enjoyed_ the fact. He didn't like them, so why should they like him? Gru liked keeping to himself, minding his studies, and just getting through the day so he could get home and start working in the lab or training in the garage. That's all he wanted.

Yet, here he was…nursing a black eye and waiting to be called in so the headmaster could humiliate him, like he always did whenever a faculty member pulled Gru out of a fistfight. It was becoming a common occurrence lately.

There was a loud click, and the grand door opposite him creaked open. Jack Fowler, a tall but well-built kid with pale, blonde hair, sauntered out and shot Gru a sly smile. He thoughtfully rubbed the reddening bruise on his left cheek.

"You're up, kid," he sneered and strode past the dark-haired teenager. Gru scowled after him.

"You can go in now," the secretary reaffirmed, as she pointed her pencil towards the headmaster's door. Gru groaned and stood from his chair, rubbing his sore arm awkwardly as he headed into the office. An older man with salt-and-pepper hair glared up at him from his wide mahogany desk.

"Close the door behind you, Mr. Gru," he instructed sternly. Gru complied with the scowl still on his face, refusing to make eye contact with the headmaster. Without being asked to, Gru then slouched into the tiny chair opposite Headmaster Garret's desk. He'd done this all before many times.

"Well, here we are again, Mr. Gru," the headmaster sneered, tapping his ballpoint pen against the desk, "Not even the third week of school and this is…I'm beginning to lose track,"

Gru said nothing, his steel blue eyes glued to the base of Garret's desk. His expression was turned to a solemn frown.

The headmaster cleared his throat before continuing, "You and Mr. Fowler again, I see? What is it this time? Let me guess, a girl? I would say 'lunch money,' but it seems like that wouldn't be a problem for either of you."

Gru still said nothing, his expression unchanging.

Losing his patience, Headmaster Garret suddenly stood, "Well, Mr. Gru, if you're not going to speak up, I suppose I have no choice but to believe Mr. Fowler's story entirely. I guess you think picking fights with others is a fun pastime? You seem to engage in no other extracurricular activities."

Still nothing from Gru, who moved only to brush some of his jet-black hair away from his forehead. He owed nothing to this school, nothing to this headmaster. Why should he allow anyone but himself an explanation for what _really_ happened? Why should he sit here and explain how Jack's been picking on him since freshman year? Why would Headmaster Garret be the _least bit_ interested, especially when he already hated Gru?

"I understand you're not living with your mother anymore," the headmaster suddenly remarked.

Gru's head snapped up. _That_ certainly got his attention.

"How deed you -"

"Mr. Gru, this is _my_ school. I know _everything_ that goes on with my students," the headmaster smirked, pleased to have gotten a reaction out of the boy. Gru rolled his eyes. _You obviously don't know everytheeng…_

"Do you know what you are, Mr. Gru?" he asked snidely. Gru's eyes widened incredulously…how was _anyone_ supposed to respond to that? He didn't like where this was going, but he wasn't about to grace Garret with an answer.

"I'll tell you what you are," the headmaster pressed on, leaning in, "you're _trouble_. You are gifted, no doubt about that…but you are trouble if I ever saw it. And if you don't shape up and fly right, you know what else you're going to be? Good for absolutely _nothing_."

Gru glared back at him. Suddenly, Jack Fowler didn't seem worth any punches next to this man.

"Like I said before…you are gifted," the headmaster continued, leaning back into his chair with a creak, "All your teachers say so. You won't speak in class, yet you pass all of your exams with flying colors. You rush through your homework minutes before class begins, yet it's always done perfectly. No one ever sees you studying…" Garret tiled his head curiously, "Yet, somehow…you are undoubtedly going to be valedictorian of the Class of '79."

Gru continued to glare and frown. This wasn't news to him. He knew he was the smartest of anyone at this stupid school. Recently, he'd been telling himself he was the best. In fact, ever since this morning, he _knew_ he was the best.

"This is not an easy school, Mr. Gru. Surely you know this," Headmaster Garret stated gruffly, "Your father may have paid _a lot_ of money to send you here, but you also needed to be accepted. To be valedictorian at George Washington Prep…do you realize you could go to any college you wanted to?"

"I am not interested," Gru snapped, finally fed up with the headmaster's monologue.

"Not interested," the headmaster repeated dryly, "Not interested in friends? Not interested in this school? Not interested in success? You'll have to be more specific, Mr. Gru."

Gru growled. "I'm not interested in going to college."

"What are you interested in then?"

Gru opened his mouth to speak but stopped. _ Interested in doing some terrible theengs to you, that's what…_

Headmaster Garret leaned forward again. "You listen to me, Mr. Gru. A brilliant psychopath like you doesn't come along everyday. With top-notch scores like yours, this school can become _much more_ than it already is. The Board of Ed would never ignore someone like you…and that's the problem."

"What are you - "

"If you're going to stay valedictorian, that means you are going to be _a model student_. Understand me?"

Gru scoffed, crossing his arms. "And eef I refuse?"

"Then you won't be valedictorian. And I'll hold you back another year…to give you another chance, you know," the headmaster smirked.

Gru gaped at the older man. _Another year here?_

"No - no," he stammered, uncomfortable with his sudden lack of power, "I have to graduate in June. I- I will, you can't say I can't!"

"I'm not saying you can't," the headmaster continued to smile, "You will graduate, Mr. Gru…but I have the power to mandate that, in order to do so, you have to remain valedictorian. It won't be hard for you to keep your grades up…but we need to prepare you for the Board of Ed,"

"What ees that supposed to mean?" Gru snarled impatiently.

"It means you are going to fix your attitude. You're going to make friends. You're going to respect your teachers, and _pick an extracurricular activity_. Being smart doesn't mean you'll be successful, Mr. Gru. It takes more to become a model citizen."

Gru collapsed back into his chair, exasperated. He had to graduate…he just had to! Nefario won't let up until he satisfies his father's will…he _needs_ that lab all to his own. He _needs_ to become the supervillain he was meant to become. He _needs_ to get out of here so he can be _evil_.

"You can't do thees to me,"

"It won't be so bad, Mr. Gru. You just have to act _normal_ for once. You can manage that, can't you?"

After a brief moment of silence, Gru stood and stormed towards the door, without another word.

"I have an idea," the headmaster called after him cheerily. Gru's ears burned from his disgustingly humored tone, "You could join the football team with Mr. Fowler. I'm sure _he_ can teach you to fit in!"

Gru slammed the door.

* * *

For his next heist, he wanted to be stronger. Gru knew that brains weren't the only thing that made a supervillain truly great.

He was on his fifth rep of push-ups, in the garage that he designated as his own personal gym. Since he was sixteen, Gru had been working on his body, to become leaner, faster, and stronger. Every day after school, this is what he did. Every day after school, this is how he let off steam. Even with a black eye and few bruises, Jack Fowler wasn't about to interrupt his usual routine.

"Excuse me, Gru?"

The teenage supervillain paused mid-push. That wasn't Nefario's voice. It was higher, lighter…female?

Glancing up, he saw long legs, a maroon-and-gray plaid skirt, and knitted gray turtleneck. He knew the uniform well. A girl from George Washington Prep.

Getting to his feet and reaching for a towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead, he studied her further. She was standing just outside the garage, which he now regretted leaving open. Olive-skinned, dark eyes, brown hair that fell in ringlets to her shoulders. _What is thees girl doing here?_

The girl must've picked up on his blank stare. "I'm Allie Asch…we have AP French together?"

Nothing.

"I sit, like…diagonal from you?"

Nope.

"Really? I've known you since eighth grade," she finally deadpanned.

"Sorry." Gru stated unapologetically, "Look, I wasn't paying attention in class, so I don't know what our homework -"

"No, I'm not here for that," she interjected awkwardly, pushing some hair away from her face. That's when Gru noticed a pad of paper in her hand and a pencil behind her ear.

"I'm editor of the school paper. And, lucky you, I'll be doing a monthly editorial on the valedictorian…I mean, everyone knows it's going to be you."

"Not interested," Gru stated and walked away to find some weights. Allie followed him, frowning in annoyance.

"What do you mean, 'not interested'?" she parroted incredulously, emphasizing his accent toward the end of the statement.

"I mean, report about something else,"

"Come on, it'll just be a quick interview! I'm not asking you to _write_ the story."

Realizing that Gru's back was facing her, Allie reached up to tap him on the shoulder. He flinched at the touch and turned around, scowling. She smiled mischievously.

"That's better."

"How deed you even _get_ here?" he sighed, his own annoyance reaching the brim.

"I followed you after school," she smirked, "Nice motorcycle. Build it yourself?" She held up her pencil and pad, grinning expectantly.

"Go away," he grunted, turning around again. There was moment of silence, when he felt her tap his shoulder again. Flinching again, he glared at her.

"What?!" he snarled, amazed that she didn't seem the _least_ bit afraid of him. In fact, she was still smiling. Gru was really starting to hate this girl.

"I have it in good with Headmaster Garret," she chirped, smirking, "If you help me out, it'll count towards your extracurriculars."

Gru sighed, shaking his head. How did she even _know_ about that?

"Everyone knows about you and Jack today…you're in trouble, right?" Allie continued, trying to keep his gaze. She couldn't help but notice a little bit of pink seep into his cheeks.

"If you help me out with this story, I promise I'll let the headmaster know. It'll do you some good,"

Gru gazed down at her. Finally, he rolled his eyes. "Come back tomorrow,"

"Thank you, Mr. Gru," she chirped, saluting him and turning on her heels to walk away. Gru watched the girl go, with a mix of annoyance and curiosity. He straightened up and looked away when he realized she was turning around to face him once more.

"By the way, Mr. Work-Out…the football team is holding try-outs next week. An athletic valedictorian…now _that_ would make a great story,"

She flashed another grin and then was gone. Gru blinked and shook his head. Who _was_ this girl?

* * *

**If you like the story so far, please review. If you DON'T like the story so far, please review :) I probably won't continue this unless I know people are actually reading and interested. Let me know your thoughts!**


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